I’m not afraid of bees. Yes, I’ve been stung. I’ve stepped on a bee and suffered the flip-side of soft clover beneath bare feet. I’ve had to make a paste of Arm & Hammer and smear it on a swollen arm, hoping to draw out a stinger. It’s been years since the last incident, but I’ve had my fair share of bee stings.
Recently I was walking around and doing my best to look up in this world. As I took a break, I was thinking about an old pine tree whose shade was shielding me from 100+ degree heat. As I stood there, ruminating on that tree’s health, I noticed something was a bit out of the ordinary. Way up in that pine tree was a honey bee nest at least 2 feet tall and 1 foot wide, covered in about a million, billion, godzillion bees.
The honey-hoarders were having themselves a grand old time, tending business and flying about. There were no flowers in the immediate area, so I guess they travel for their hooch, then return home to elevated safety.
Honey bees are dwindling, friends. You probably knew that already. Personally, I’m always happy to see them. I know their hard work is greatly responsible for the food I eat. (And I eat a lot of food, y’all.) Each time I spot a dead bee on the sidewalk, it makes me sad. Like most folks, I don’t know how we’re going to survive if our honey bees don’t make it. The jury seems to mostly be out on what’s causing the bee population to die off, so I’ll hold back judgment until more definitive information is available. The reasons don’t change the way I feel, though.
So I’m not sure what to think of this particular bee hive. Though I spotted this bevy of bees in a residential area, I don’t think they’re hurting anyone. I suppose I’ll try to contact the city of L.A. and let them know of the bees’ existence. Or maybe I won’t. My personal jury is out on this one. Any suggestions?
